All But Two
by swaggersaur
Summary: In which Bianca reflects over her relationships with the two Torres brothers.  Light Badam, Drianca Friendship


_Title_: All But Two  
><em>Disclaimer<em>: I own nothing  
><em>A.N.<em> I can't be the only one who noticed Bianca's attitude towards the Torres brothers being completely different to her attitude towards everyone else. Read and Review, if you wish to. I internally cringe when I read over my own work, so excuse the redundancy, etc. Good day.

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><p>"You're such a raging bitch!"<p>

"You _just_ realized?"

You scoff at the blonde haired girl from your comfortable seat on the couch, yawning and stealing a quick glance at the clock hanging above you. Really, you didn't quite get what Drew saw in her; she wasn't anything special. She wasn't exceptionally talented or beautiful, and she had this annoying habit of being completely irritating and jealous over every little thing.

"You've got to get over yourself. I. Am. Not. Interested. In. Stealing. Your. Boyfriend."

You sound out each word for her, accompanied by your hands. Sometime over the break, you decided that Drew was more of sort of brotherly figure rather than a boyfriend kind of guy. After all, he was a bit of a muscle-head and you never really got emotionally attached to him. Still, he looked out for you and made you feel safe, and you liked that about him. He was one of the only people you could never truly be cruel to; even towards gentle Clare you couldn't help but jab a few insults here and there. It was just your _nature_. Some people are born funny, some people are born smart, and you were born bitchy.

"Boiler Room Bianca says otherwise."

She glares at you and you can't help but to let out a loud, hopefully obnoxious laugh.

"Oh please. You're going back to that again? If you're going to stay stuck in the past, you'll never have a future with him."

"You know what, Bianca? You're the worst kind of bitch."

"Please do elaborate! I'd like to know more about this magical social hierarchy in Katieville."

"You are the kind of bitch who hates herself so much that she can't be real to anyone."

That was unexpected.

Your eyes widen as she gives another dirty look your way, but you quickly mask your shock with another bored, neutral expression.

"Do you think that if I try _really_ hard, I can be promoted to your type of bitch? Or will that take years of practice?"

Katie lets out a frustrated shriek before storming out of the house, yelling Drew's name angrily. You scoff and Drew immediately comes down the stairs a second later, panicked as he pulls on his jacket and smoothes down his hair.

"Aw, did you chase Katie out of my house again?" He complains with a smile, "Keep on doing that and she might break up with me."

"Maybe I want that to happen." You joke, and he laughs with you, because he knows you're words and no bite.

"Well, Katie and I are going to watch that new chick flick that's out, and we'll be back in about five hours or so. I think we're grabbing a bite to eat at that new ice cream parlor a few blocks away from the movies. I'll get you your favorite, okay?"

"Yeah, sounds good. Make sure your girlfriend doesn't die of a hemorrhage. I think I overdid it."

"Admitting your mistake is the first sign of progress, Ms. DeSousa."

"Okay, now skedaddle, punk ass kid."

Smiling, you watch as he steps out the door to his awaiting (and possibly bloodthirsty) girlfriend, but not before he stops and looks back at you a final time.

"I'll tell her you were only playing with her."

Nodding, you watch as he leaves and you're alone again with your thoughts. Maybe what Katie said is right; maybe you area special kind of bitch that hated herself to the point that you were unable to form healthy relationships with other people. Maybe you really are that messed up. Lips drawn, you stand and walk towards the kitchen counter, grabbing yourself one of Drew's Gatorade bottles from the refrigerator. It's Glacier Freeze, your favorite, and you know he bought it specifically for you although he never admits it, because he hates that flavor.

She is completely wrong, you realize. When you're with Drew, you're real.

Admittedly, months back, you were only really looking for a fun time with the boy; he was young, energetic, and filled with all this sexual energy that felt almost equal to yours, and it was almost necessary for you to do what you did with him. Now, through all that happened through those stressful, agonizingly slow months, you formed another relationship with him, a stronger, more understandable relationship. He protected you from Vince the best he could and he kept your body safe from any other boys from that gang. He cared about you. He cares about you.

And the only thing he wanted and the only thing he got back in return was you opening up to him, and for real this time. It makes you happy, having someone to act like yourself around; when you're with him, you don't feel the need to be mean or sarcastic or _bitchy_, and when you do act that way, he knows it's just you being you. Still, you can't help but show your softer side to him because he is always there for you and he is always that wall around you, keeping you safe.

You can't help but be real to him.

"Hey, let's play some games."

Turning around, you see the younger Torres stepping down the stairs, his hair wild from his obvious state of sleep only moments ago and his loose shirt and basketball shorts making him look every much the young teenage boy he was and is.

You wonder why you were ever so mean to him; you wonder why he can even stand being in the same room with you, nevertheless ask you to game with him.

"You're on, Torres."

He tosses you an extra controller and a few minutes later, you're sitting side-by-side on the couch, simultaneously working together to kill the hordes of zombies chasing after the both of you. There's a smile on your face, you realize. A real smile. Your heart feels light and your fingers dance across the controller like your body on the dance floor, and you feel a sense of belonging and happiness, much like when you danced with him at prom. There's a child-like innocence surrounding him and you feel safe, but a different kind of safe. There's something about this boy.

"Bianca! Grab the grenade launcher! C'mon, it's right there!"

"I see it, I see it! Calm down! I got it! Ha, eat this, zombie scum!"

You're both laughing when the mission ends and the load screen appears before the two of you high-five, congratulating each other on both of your respective zombie-ass-kicking abilities.

"Man, Bianca, we're a hell of a team, huh."

He flashes you a boyish grin before focusing back on the screen now that a new mission began and zombies were beginning to spawn around the both of you. You stop playing for a second to glance at him; you study his face, too focused on the game to notice you, as you furrow your brows at the sight of him biting his lower lip while aiming at another zombie, and you look at the skillful speed at which his fingers press against the controller, and y-

"Bianca! I can't cover for you forever, you know!"

Snapped out of your thoughts, you look at the game once more, and you realize that although you've been zoning out for a good couple of minutes, your character is still at full health. It's shocking to you, since the game is on expert mode and sustaining injuries is almost guaranteed even if you were actually moving around and fighting. Adam's character, however, is already half dead.

"It's just a game, Adam! You didn't have to cover for me." You laugh, and his voice turns solemn.

"But I want to."

Quiet fills the room (minus the bloody sound effects blasting from the television) and you're at a loss of words. At the same time, you feel silly, because all he's talking about is a game, right? This boy is just too much.

"It's only a game, Adam."

"Well, yeah, so? Whatever. I mean, if there were real zombies and shit, I'd still cover for you."

He looks over at you and gives a lopsided grin, and your mouth curves upwards.

"I don't know, Adam. I think I'd just run. I'm known for being a self-conceited bitch anyways."

You laugh but he doesn't and you pause to see him looking at you with a frown.

"I don't like you calling yourself that."

"What?"

"I think you're unselfish. You've made stupid choices, I guess. But not out of selfishness, I think. I mean, I think you're just a little confused about stuff but over all that, I think you're a really brave girl. I know all that shit went down this past year and all, but you've been through that too. People calling you 'slut' and 'bitch' and 'Boiler Room Bianca' and… I know how it hurts. Being treated like that. Even if you don't act like it does, I know it hurts. And I think you're really strong to come out smiling from all the shit you've been through. I think you're beautiful."

His focus is back on the game and you're in awe, because this is the first time someone has ever called you beautiful with such conviction, without wanting to get into your pants. A small smile graces your lips as you glance towards the boy once again, and you mouth a quick 'Thank You,' not wanting him to see it. It is an offhand comment to him, but to you, it means so much.

"Bianca! There's a zombie behind you!"

"Oh, what? Shit, shit, kill it, kill it!"

Again, you're drawn back into the game, and your laughter is genuine and you love that so much; you love how you can be so real with Adam without stressing over school or reputation or anything else. You feel like you're somewhere else and like nothing can touch you and if anyone tried, they'd be pushed back by Adam and his essence.

"I'm back!"

You and Adam barely acknowledge the older Torres brother.

"Five hours already? Well, grab a controller."

Drew throws you the ice cream cup and Adam throws him a spare controller, and he sits on the other side of you. The ice cream remains untouched as the three of you resume killing the zombies, and you feel so happy.

When you are all together, you feel safe, as if nothing and nobody can touch you.

If Drew is the wall around you, then Adam is your armor.

Drew won't let anyone physically harm you if you let him protect you, and Adam? Adam won't break your heart if you gave it to him.

Taking a glance at the two boys sitting next to you, you decide that's just what you'll do. You'll be true to yourself, and you'll let Drew protect your body and you'll let Adam protect your heart. And they'll do a kickass job of it; you're almost a hundred percent sure of it.

"So Katie was ranting to me today." Drew complains.

"Oh? What'd she say?"

"She says that you're the kind of bitch that can't be real to anyone."

Adam raises an eyebrow at that and both brothers free a hand to pat you on the back.

Drew's hand is rough but strong, and you know you picked the right boy to keep you safe from all of Vince's people who were out to hurt you.

Adam's hand is gentle but sturdy, and you know you picked the right boy to keep your heart safe from all those words and anger and hatred always directed at you, always breaking you down.

"She's not wrong."

You softly say, and the two boys look at you almost angrily and you can't help but to laugh.

It's hard for me to be real with people. I mean, I'm just usually a bitch. I'm like that to all the people around me."

The two boys exchange a knowing glance before returning to the game and you laugh at their disbelief.

"Well, all but two."

_Fin_


End file.
